


you've dismantled me

by agcrazy



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Past Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Tour!fic, mentions of Perrie Edwards/Zayn Malik, squinty amounts of Lilo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 16:12:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agcrazy/pseuds/agcrazy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That's how they've been for the past few months now.</p><p>Only interacting when absolutely necessary, like on stage or during interviews, but otherwise ignoring each other. It's hard to pinpoint when exactly this thing started - they had been close nearing the end of last year and suddenly they weren't anymore. But even so, Zayn's pretty sure most of it is his fault anyway.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>or the one where Zayn and Harry are meant to be together right from the start, just that they didn't know it, and Zayn screwed up a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you've dismantled me

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is for a lovely anon on tumblr and so I hope she likes it.
> 
> But like it's real verse, tour fic and I hate writing real verse so if it's shit, well I'm truly sorry. I hope it's not though?
> 
> and also this is basically a songfic! song being Dismantle.Repair by Anberlin. All the italicised lyricss are from that song, yeah? Yay okay, hope you guys enjoy it!
> 
> Any and all mistakes are mine because I haven't proofread, and I need to get this off my chest before I explode, but if there are mistakes do let me know? :) I'll probably come back in a day or two fix them anyway.
> 
> Well, I hope you guys enjoy reading about the princesses of the band (yeah, okay that's my nickname for Zayn and Harry)! :3

 

 

_I am the Patron Saint of Lost Causes_

_A fraction of who I once believed_

_\- Dismantle.Repair by Anberlin_

 

They are in Madrid and Zayn thinks he should probably feel something other than the complete and utter numbness that his heart seems to be engulfed in. He doesn't expect himself to be the bright-eyed, far too happy, far too trusting lad from three years ago anymore but to be so apathetic isn't what he wanted for himself either. It's a little haunting to look at himself in the mirror these days and see a shell and _know_ that only minutes later he'll be out there with cameras flashing in his eyes, him pretending to be ecstatic as ever, cheeky as ever.

 

Maybe he shouldn't have waved off Danny's warning back then about the perils of the entertainment business.

 

But it's not like he could actually have done anything, not like heeding the advice would have made any difference. Because Zayn would never give up One Direction - still won't, in fact - and if that's the case, then, well, the rest will always come with being in One Direction, won't it? The fame that starts fraying the edges of his sanity after a while, the schedules which wear down on his bones some nights, the paps who never seem to stop spreading rumours about him, the - _everything_ really.

 

In a way, Zayn’s glad he is at least capable of knowing he's jaded - _just_ jaded - and not actually emotionally drained and deadened - that a single butterfly in his belly not stirring into life while _he_ flits from one exotic place to another, while he 'lives the life' as interviewers like to call it, is all that's wrong with him. At least he's not been sucked dry to the point where he can't even perform because _that_ \- that's the worst. That's playing with so many people's dreams and no matter what happens, no matter how much Zayn withdraws into himself, he doesn't want to let anyone down where it counts.

 

But sometimes it feels like he hasn't quite succeeded in maintaining that distinction between _just enough_ and _too far_ , like now: when Liam and Louis are looking at him shocked, simply because he agreed to go clubbing with them and there is also this hint of quiet happiness in their eyes Zayn hasn't seen being directed his way in some time. It sends a dreadful pang resounding heavily through Zayn's heart, knowing that in his attempt to disconnect from the world, he has managed to alienate his own best friends. They are more than best friends though, and that just makes it worse.

 

It's hardly his fault - it's like he insists whenever someone brings up that he's moody and aloof, which, well, he is _now_ , but previously it _had_ really been that he's shy and reserved. It took innumerable cuddle attacks from Louis before he finally became as he is (but of course, he was never as bad as Liam, and what is really telling is that Liam's a lot more touchy-feely than Zayn is now). Hence, when journalists and bloggers and mothers and whoever else the universe threw at him started criticizing his behaviour, his religion, his faithfulness, his girlfriend and every other personal detail about him, it's no wonder Zayn flinched and shrunk back from the world. What he never anticipated was pushing away his own band mates. Which is -

 

It hurts actually.

 

Now that Zayn looks into himself, he can feel the hole that's been slowly gnawing open from the pieces of Liam, Louis, Niall and Harry he has been letting go.

 

So, Zayn smiles at the pair in front of him, and quietly says, "Missed you guys."

 

It's rather out of the blue and cryptic to an extent that Zayn thinks they might not understand; but a few months of being off-kilter has nothing on the _years_ of living out of one another's pockets. And when Liam smiles all crinkly-eyed, and Louis makes a ridiculous face at him, Zayn figures, _yeah, no_ , they still have his back and they are all still on the same wavelength.

 

"Missed you too, you wanker," Louis snorts, slinging an arm around Zayn's shoulder. "Now let's go _partay_!"

 

Zayn laughs helplessly when Louis fist pumps the air and he hoots encouragingly at the older boy. It's good to see Liam and Louis smiling like that, it's been long for them too.

 

Long since they've had any peace or privacy. Not the literal kind (well, that too), but more of letting them do whatever they want without having to care about a thousand other opinions. It's not the same as Zayn's peace, which lately are quiet nights in with thick books and soft bluesy music playing in the background.

 

Zayn knows they don't have it any easier than he does, that they have their own set of problems too. He winces, thinking about how he has become so selfish, so absorbed in his own woes that he stopped looking at his friends'. He smiles tightly as Louis tugs on his arm, directing his attention back to the blue-eyed lad.

 

"We're going to get pissed, yeah?" Louis asks, voice a bit too high and ragged already, as though the anticipation is enough to excite him that much.

 

"No, you're not," Liam snorts, "I'm not hauling your drunken arse back to the hotel."

 

Louis immediately lets go off Zayn and latches on to Liam's side like a koala. "But _Leeyum_ , Zayn's coming out with us after so long. It requires a proper celebration!"

 

Zayn shakes his head as they reach the nondescript car and climb in one after another. "Yeah? Where's Harry and Niall then?" Zayn asks.

 

"I think they're going to come later. At least Haz is," Louis says, sprawling comfortably over Liam and Zayn. "He has some other _prior engagement_ apparently."

 

"How does he even know anyone here?" Liam asks incredulously, wrapping an arm around Louis' middle when the car jerks to life. Zayn feels his insides tighten when Louis sends a smile towards Liam, a smile that feels exclusive and a lot like a secret.

 

He really has been missing far too many things.

 

"Well, you know how Harry is," Louis says, waving his arms around in a grand, vague gesture that Zayn does actually understand.

 

Harry is something (some _one_ ) Zayn spent hours trying to unravel back during the X-Factor days and then on their first tour, so yeah, he has the curly-haired boy pinned down well enough.

 

It's relatively quiet after that, with Liam smiling at him in that _Liam_ -way of his, and Louis poking at Liam's stomach or Zayn's arm. It feels like maybe, just maybe, sometimes peace is possible, even the kind that Liam and Louis crave.

 

The moment they arrive though, and the door is opened, Zayn takes back his words in the face of gasps and girls immediately asking for autographs. Louis sighs quietly and even as Zayn reaches forward to curl a sympathetic palm over the curve of Louis' shoulder, Liam is already there waving them in while he fends off the fans. Liam is an angel, really.

 

"Liam's a saint," Louis murmurs into his ear as they duck into the club, glad for the low lighting. Zayn chuckles. " _God_ , I love our fans but sometimes, I just wish they wouldn't be _everywhere_."

 

Zayn nods, massaging the knots on Louis' shoulder before turning to face him. "We waiting for Li, or wanna get drinks first?"

 

Louis' face lights up, and Zayn thinks _victory!_ when he promptly starts talking about how they should get in as many drinks as possible before Liam cuts them off. Zayn is laughing as Louis drags him off towards the bar and it feels like -

 

His chest feels light in a way it hasn't for a long time. The laughter is almost - _almost_ \- enough to thrust the ringing screeching of fans out of his mind.

 

xx

 

Harry does turn up halfway through and Zayn's heart stutters in that uncomfortable way it always has at the sight of those green eyes and long torso. In that way Zayn has long learnt to ignore. He and Louis have had a long drunken conversation about it before - how nearly everyone probably fancies themselves a bit in _like_ with Harry. It's nothing to worry about, this weird affliction his heart seems to have - except, maybe that it caused Zayn to distance himself more from Harry than from his other three friends in the past few months.

 

Zayn watches Harry most of the time after that, once he has spotted the distinct head of curly hair moving about amongst the crowd that is. He watches him take pictures with people, a different drink in hand every time, and laugh and dance with whoever's closest to him. Their eyes catch once or twice, but Harry tips his head towards him in acknowledgement only the first time. Zayn doesn't quite know why this sense of discontent settles over him at that, because it really shouldn't have been a surprise.

 

That's how they've been for the past few months now.

 

Only interacting when absolutely necessary, like on stage or during interviews, but otherwise ignoring each other. It's hard to pinpoint when exactly this thing started - they had been close nearing the end of last year and suddenly they weren't anymore. But even so, Zayn's pretty sure most of it is his fault anyway.

 

It's because of that, he takes pity on himself and leaves the club, knowing that if he stays longer he'll just berate himself for having been a massive twat. He's hardly enjoying himself there as it is, and taking a cab discreetly from the back alley seems like a great idea - up until he hears feet shuffling behind him.

 

It's Harry, Zayn recognizes. He is humming the melody to one of the few obscure songs - _One last glance from a taxi cab, Images scar my mind_ \- he has managed to get Zayn to retain. Zayn lets the cab he was about to hail pass by him as he turns around to look at Harry questioningly.

 

When he quirks an eyebrow at the younger lad, Harry laughs nervously and shakes out his hair. It's a little distracting but it's not like Zayn's got anything else to attend to.

 

"Didn't expect to see you here tonight," Harry says, voice low and -

 

There's something else there in his tone, or maybe it's just Zayn projecting, but the _something_ annoys Zayn. It annoys him enough that he bites out, "Didn't expect me to be here, or didn't want me to?"

 

Harry's eyebrows start to furrow, like he can't fathom why Zayn would say that at all. It's etched deep and looks mean, and it's all Zayn can do to not retract his words, to not reach over and smooth out the skin there.

 

"I - uh. Liam and Lou are really excited you're here tonight," is what Harry replies instead. "Don't think you should go back just yet. They'll feel bad."

 

Zayn looks away, knowing that Harry is right but unable to find it in himself to care. He does care, but just not enough this time.

 

"Tell them I got tired of people asking for photos, they'll understand," Zayn tells him. He looks back towards Harry and feels a little tremor go through him when he sees the boy standing much closer than before. "What?"

 

"Just," Harry starts, "I...If you're going, I might as well. I came to see if you're really out tonight."

 

Zayn frowns at him. It doesn't make sense why Harry would do that, or want to verify such a thing. But then again, none of this has been making sense the moment Harry started talking to him of his own initiative. Zayn cocks his head to the side in confusion.

 

Harry sighs and drops his eyes. He mumbles into the silence surrounding them, "Haven't seen you out to party in so long. Didn't believe it when Lou texted. Initially, I only told them I was going to come later to get them off my back, but I actually came because I knew you were here."

 

"That doesn't make sense, Haz," Zayn whispers.

 

"I know," Harry whispers back, but his lips remain quirked up from hearing the nickname on Zayn's lips. "It's. Don't know it myself. Can we just go? Even I know what to say as an appropriate explanation, I don't want to do it here, where anyone might stumble upon us."

 

"I thought you said Lou and Li would be mad at me if I left. You don't think they'll be doubly mad if we _both_ leave?" Zayn asks indignantly, purposely being difficult because it's hard to react otherwise with this unfamiliar foreboding feeling pressing down on his back.

 

But when Harry gives him a severely unimpressed look to rival even that of Louis', Zayn sighs and hails the next cab passing them by.

 

It’s quiet in the cab, and Zayn finds a strange sort of familiarity in it, _about_ it - a homeliness quality to it. If the driver recognizes them, he doesn’t show any indication and for that, they are both grateful. Zayn knows Harry was on the verge of being drunk when he came out because  his cheeks are still flushed pink and eyes slightly dilated, and Zayn doesn’t want to have to deal with someone who might be interested in them when Harry’s is in this state. _This state_ being loose-tongued and a lot more open than usual.

 

Zayn wonders why he didn’t realise it right away, that the only reason Harry _did_ follow him out was that he had liquid courage on his side and the thought makes him clench his jaw tight. When Harry reaches out and touches his fingertips to the scruff growing on the underline of his chin, Zayn jerks away and looks at him.

 

“Why are you always so angry?” Harry asks.

 

Zayn almost bites off his head with the retort on the tip of his tongue. Almost, but he doesn’t because it's not really Harry's fault. None of this is, and yet he doesn't know why he has always given the younger boy the hardest time. Zayn doesn't trust himself to say anything with Harry like this, teetering on the edge of inebriation where he has no qualms about doing anything but will remember just about everything that transpires.

 

Harry scoots a little closer, and then some more when Zayn remains silent, watching him with hooded eyes. He slides unbearably warm palms up Zayn's cheeks and forces him to look into Harry's eyes straight up. Even with the black nearly engulfing the green, Zayn finds his eyes too bright to look at. It makes him feel like he might tear up, like as if he is looking at the sun, and he tries to tug away but Harry's hold remains strong.

 

"You're always so angry at me and I don't know why. I tried to figure it out at first, but then I gave up and now I realise I haven't really," Harry murmurs.

 

Their faces are close enough that Zayn _feels_ every word Harry utters on his face (his _lips_ ) rather than hear them. The words cut like knives though, because Harry sounds so hurt and vulnerable and _young_. So very young, and it's always so easy to forget how Harry maybe has it worse than any of them and maybe that is why he and Zayn were so close in the first place. And why Zayn pushed him away, because if anyone can actually understand him, it's probably Harry, which -

 

Zayn's a masochistic bastard, is all.

 

Well, not really. It's just that Zayn doesn't like complications while Harry is complication personified and Zayn is introverted while Harry barely comprehends the meaning of that word, and letting Harry in would have been the worst decision of all eternity.

 

Ergo, he has no idea why he doesn't move away when Harry starts to lean in now. Harry gives him plenty of time to withdraw, plenty of time for his brain to make the connection that _hey, you know what, Harry is going to kiss you now_. Instead, he stares at Harry's plump lips moving closer and closer, hazel eyes wide and glued to the bitten red of his lips.

 

At some point, he probably closes his eyes because the next thing he knows is that Harry is right in his space (even more so than before) and that they are kissing. Even though it's such a cliche for Zayn to admit, but Harry kisses like no other he has ever experienced. He has kissed Harry before but those were with the intent of solely comforting him, or chaste ones that didn't have this much heat and none of those times compare to this at all. This one has Harry molding his entire body to Zayn's, has him cupping the back of Zayn's neck with one hand while the other remains on his cheek, has him pressing his lips harder and deeper against Zayn's until -

 

Zayn gives in with a low sound torn from the back of his throat.

 

Zayn yanks Harry even closer (like that's possible), fingers digging into his waist and Harry shifts until he's straddling Zayn, crotches pressed flush against each other. Harry groans and immediately swoops his tongue in when Zayn lets his mouth fall open. Zayn's hips jerk upwards into Harry's when the boy strokes the rough pad of his tongue on the roof of Zayn's mouth, and it has both of them moaning as their semi-hard cocks slide against each other even through the layers of clothes. Harry bites down on Zayn's lip just as the car stops abruptly at a signal and it's as if the weight of what they're doing has suddenly come hurtling down on Zayn's conscience.

 

"Fuck, Haz," Zayn curses and pushes Harry away. It's not much, the little distance that he manages to put in between them and it isn't enough to jump-start his neural functions because Harry is still in his lap and -

 

Zayn can't get past the fact that Harry is in his lap, period.

 

"Fuck," Zayn repeats, and cringes when Harry sits there - on _him_ \- blinking slowly. Harry's lips are kiss-swollen now, not just looking like Harry chewed on them like he always does, and they are shining slick and Zayn is finding it exceptionally difficult to not just launch himself at Harry, cab drivers and _what does this mean_ s be damned.

 

However, Zayn has always prided himself on his control and he looks at Harry stoically, steadfastly keeping his hands to himself when he asks, "What are we doing?"

 

Maybe it's just that Zayn's heart is beating too fast for him to have lost all sense of time but it takes a while for Harry to answer, as though he is tossing and turning the question in his head first before he replies.

 

"Does it matter?" Harry counters. "Do we need to know right now what we are doing?"

 

Zayn desperately wants to say _yes_ , that he _does_ indeed need to know right fucking now what they are doing because this is all sorts of _things_ he can't cope with if it goes wrong but Zayn also desperately wants to slip his fingers under Harry's shirt and stroke the skin there.

 

But Harry doesn't even let him decide which of his needs are greater before the boy's lips are on his again and everything is momentarily forgotten.

 

xx

 

Zayn's pretty sure the story of two-fifths of One Direction making out in the backseat of a cab is going to be splashed all over the tabloids the next day. When they pull up at their hotel, Zayn quite nearly throws the notes at the driver and firmly ignores his smirk as his eyes scan over the pair of them. Zayn doesn't even check if there's enough to cover the fare, but hopefully it's too much and that the extra tip will keep the cabbie's mouth shut. Though, to be completely honest, it's hard for Zayn to truly care about any of that when Harry is mouthing at the side of his throat and his large palm keeps sliding up his back and then down just enough to dip an inch into his jeans.

 

He stumbles out of the vehicle, pulling Harry along behind him. The thing is, Harry is clumsy at best of times but even the slightest bit of drink turns him into a walking hazard for everyone involved. Zayn's glad that it's too late for paparazzi to be lurking about because he probably couldn't have dealt with that _and_ a slightly buzzed Harry without cussing out the entire universe.

 

He grunts under the pressure of Harry's full weight on him when the boy goes all boneless and drapes himself over Zayn. Harry smashes his face into the crook of Zayn's neck and starts pecking there.

 

"Harry, fuck - " Zayn bites off, pulling Harry up and dragging him towards the hotel entrance, "Can you just - fuck. Harry. Stop, ugh."

 

Zayn barely manages to get them through the hotel's revolving door before Harry spins him around and shoves him up against the nearest wall. It's stupid and reckless and Zayn growls from frustration more than anything else because _of course,_ Harry has enough coordination to hike Zayn by his hips but not walk in a straight line. And as much as Zayn loves the way Harry is sucking a welt onto the skin right above his collarbone, he catches the wide-eyed stare of the receptionist over Harry's shoulder. She looks like she's five seconds away recording this whole encounter.

 

Zayn quickly detaches Harry from him and has to half carry the protesting boy into the lift. Zayn sighs a little with relief when Harry slumps back against the lift's mirror and doesn't attack him any further. He's quite certain the receptionist is avidly watching them through the security camera.

 

It's when he rolls his head sideways to look at Harry and finds the brunette looking at him with unchecked lust in his eyes that Zayn's starts feeling like he might implode. From the taxi to here, he'd been worried about getting them to his room unseen and in one piece, but now that Harry's meeting his gaze with that almost cocky smile and a hint of giddy excitement in his expression, Zayn can feel his blood starting to sizzle. So far, and even during the cab ride, the attraction, the anticipation, had been prickling just on the surface of his skin, but now Zayn feels it settling _beneath_ his skin.

 

It sort of itches in a delicious way and it's Zayn this time who can hardly wait till he gets his hands on Harry. Raking his eyes over Harry's dishevelled appearance (which he had a small part in, Zayn thinks with satisfaction), he licks his lips in an almost wicked way. Harry's eyes drop down to trace the small movement of his tongue before he's mirroring him and they both smile at each other, all heat and no warmth.

 

Harry's pressed up right behind his back when they get out of the lift and shuffle towards Zayn's room, and Zayn goes to unlock his door. There's a pause then, during which the pair glance at each other, eyes locking for just a second before they are in the room and -

 

Tearing at each other's clothes.

 

Buttons pop as Zayn yanks Harry's shirt down from his shoulders and he's sure that sound just now was that of his own t-shirt tearing at the seams somewhere, but none of that matters when they fall tangled and half-naked on the bed with the expanse of Harry's skin laid bare for him. Green eyes flashing, Harry growls, tugging on Zayn's jeans. Zayn takes a moment to suck at the tender skin on the underside of Harry's jaw before he gets up and helps them both take off their trousers and boxers. There are identical sharp intakes of breath as they stare at each other, both hard and flushed red. Their cocks are curved up towards their stomachs, and Zayn can see where Harry's is smearing pre-come on his skin.

 

He forces himself to look away and cross over to his luggage in the corner of the room.  Zayn hears Harry rearranging himself on the bed as he rummages around in his bag for lube and condoms. It's a little presumptuous but _fuck_ , Zayn doesn't think he read the signs wrongly. When he turns back to Harry with the items in hand, Harry is spread out on his bed. He's been checking Zayn out and he continues to blatantly do so, all the while lazily stroking himself. Legs slightly parted and breath coming in short, low pants with chest and arms inked up, Harry's nothing short of breathtaking.

 

In fact, Zayn has never seen anything more beautiful.

 

" _Jesus_ ," Zayn hisses before he's crawling up the bed and straddling Harry.

 

Their dicks slide against each other, creating mind-boggling friction that has Harry arching up and moaning loudly. Zayn bites his lip as he spreads his hands over Harry's chest. He muses that he'll probably never get sick of the feel of this skin beneath his palms - _Hands, like secrets, Are the hardest things to keep from you_  . It's smooth and sort of familiar from all the times they have cuddled together shirtless.

 

Zayn runs his hand down until he reaches Harry's dick and wraps his fingers around him. Harry's breath hitches and he lets out a broken version of Zayn's name that Zayn wants to hear on repeat. Squeezing lightly, Zayn leans down and kisses the moan right out of Harry's lips. He braces himself up with an arm placed beside Harry's head and deepens the kiss until all he knows are the smooth contours of Harry's mouth.

 

It's just as Zayn drags his hand upwards in a stroke on Harry's dick that Harry wrenches his lips away and turns his face to the side. His eyes are screwed shut and he gasps when Zayn thumbs over his slit. One of Harry's hands shoot up from where it was tugging at the sheets to fist at Zayn's hair, the other cups Zayn's arse and pushes down so that their cocks press against each other. Zayn bites down on Harry's left earlobe which he was lazily sucking when their dicks rub against each other. It's uncomfortable and awkward with his hand trapped in the between and there isn't any proper relief. But the way Harry is rutting his hips in short, staccato movements against his is probably still going to have this ending sooner than Zayn would like.

 

Zayn quickly leans back up, kissing down Harry torso as he goes. Harry whines high and indignant, but arches up at every press of Zayn's lips on his skin. Zayn chuckles low in his throat and tweaks one of Harry's nipples.

 

"Not yet," Zayn says by a way of explanation.

 

"Hurry _up_ ," Harry pleads, "Can't wait anymore. Just - "

 

Harry breaks off, writhing on the bed when Zayn continues to torture the pink nub, rolling it between his fingers teasingly.

 

"Fuck - " Harry rasps, "Zay - Zayn. _Please_."

 

Looking at Harry pleading and gasping his name like that, Zayn swallows audibly and nods even though Harry can't see him what with the way he has his head thrown back against the pillows. "Yeah, yeah," Zayn whispers, "Turn over for me."

 

He shuffles off Harry so that he can turn over onto his stomach. Zayn runs a hand down Harry's back, watching in fascination as the muscles jerk underneath his touch. Harry wiggles his bum, and Zayn lets out a reluctant laugh - he should have known Harry would be cheeky in bed too.

 

He grabs the lube and condom from where he threw them near the edge when climbing onto the bed and places them on the small of Harry's back. Zayn loves the way Harry's spine curves ever so slightly there. He moves in between Harry's parted legs and spreads his arsecheeks to reveal his puckered hole.

 

Zayn inhales sharply.

 

It's one of those distinct moments when Zayn's struck mute by how gorgeous Harry is and holy fuck, this is _Harry_ spread open before him, and how Harry wants _him_ inside him.

 

"Fuck, Haz, are you sure?" Zayn breathes out almost reverentially.

 

"Zayn, if," Harry says, pausing to take a breath, "If you don't fuck me within the next one minute, I'm going to _scream_."

 

"Okay, okay," Zayn says, choking over the words.

 

He swipes the pad of his thumb across Harry's arsehole and revels in the way his entire body shudders. Picking up the lube, Zayn flicks it open and drizzles a generous amount over his right hand's fingers. Without warning, he edges in the tip of a finger and Harry flinches away. Placing his left hand on Harry's  lower back to stay him, Zayn slowly pushes the finger in till it's knuckle-deep.

 

Harry is so _tight_ , and the heat enveloping just this much of his finger is making him feel dizzy and has him panting alongside Harry. Zayn's not sure if be can actually hold out for very long once he's inside Harry. Zayn wiggles his finger, and Harry's muscles clamp down on him, making his dick twitch.

 

"It's been a while," Harry huffs, "Just add. Add another."

 

Zayn doesn't pay him any heed, instead he pushes that one finger in and out until he has a steady rhythm going. It's making Harry squirm and he fucks back onto Zayn's finger, begging for more. When Zayn slides in a second finger, Harry groans and pushes up a little into a kneeling position. The condom slips off of Harry's back but the action causes Harry's hole to be displayed even better, and Zayn watches, mesmerized, as his fingers disappear into Harry.

 

"Christ," Zayn says, voice rough, as he scissors his fingers to stretch open the hole.

 

"Zayn, Zayn, now. Come on, fuck me. _Now_ ," Harry says, breathing laboured, and he pushes his arse up even higher.

 

"Ye-Yeah," Zayn stutters, and takes his fingers out. He almost gets distracted, watching Harry clench around air, but he quickly grabs the condom. Tearing the wrapper off, he sheathes himself and pours some lube over.

 

Positioning himself at the entrance, he rubs the tip of his cocks in a circle around the ring of muscles. He hisses in unbearable pleasure when Harry's body immediately tries to suck him in.

 

"Fuck you, Malik," Harry groans. He repositions himself to be on his elbows, and glares back at Zayn over his shoulders. "Quit teasing."

 

Zayn grins at him, and pushes in without further ado. It's tight despite the preparation he did, and it's so unbelievably hot that Zayn grasps Harry's hips hard enough to bruise.

 

"Fu- _fuck_ ," Harry moans, eyes slipping shut as his head falls forward onto his forearms, "Yeah, more."

 

Veins on Zayn's neck start straining as he refrains from just pounding into Harry, because all the sounds Harry is making aren't helping his control at all. Zayn's arm muscles bulge more from holding himself off rather than from pulling Harry in and it's all he can do to not weep from sheer relief when he finally bottoms out.

 

Balls deep, and resting snug against Harry's flesh, Zayn sighs, relishing the heat surrounding his hard dick. He lets Harry get used to him, and when Harry impatiently whines and wiggles against him, he gradually slides out till only the head of his cock is still within before pushing back in.

 

It only takes a few more moments of this, before Zayn is slamming into Harry, all thoughts of restraint forgotten - only chasing their mutual pleasure. Harry keeps up a steady stream of gasps and moans from every time Zayn hits his prostate and Zayn is draped over Harry's back, continuously mouthing profanities on his skin from Harry squeezing around him.

 

"Z-Zayn, touch me. Wanna co-come."

 

Zayn straightens and the angle has him wedging deeper into Harry every time he pushes in now. Wrapping a hand around Harry's neglected dick, he pulls Harry to his chest with the other hand yanking on the curly locks. Harry keens and wraps back an arm around Zayn's shoulders. The bed creaks as Zayn continues to drive into him roughly.

 

But the thing is that it's not just rough - it's _wild_.

 

Zayn has never felt this uninhibited. He has never known sex to be _this_ good - be it with a guy or a girl, not even with Perrie whom he once thought he loved. This feels beyond wonderful, and it feels like the orgasm is being wrenched from somewhere deep within him. It's purely physical but it's not at the same time.

 

Zayn strokes Harry in time to how he's sliding in and out out of the younger lad and it's fast, so fast. Harry's head is thrown back on Zayn's shoulder and he is grinding himself down as much as Zayn is fucking up into Harry. Harry comes with a shout of Zayn's name, spilling come over Zayn's fist and his own stomach, and the force of his climax has him clenching so sweetly around Zayn that it pulls him into similar mindlessness as well. Zayn bites down on Harry's exposed shoulder as he comes, burying deep within Harry and spilling into the condom.

 

Zayn keeps his teeth clamped on Harry's flesh as they come down from their high, hearts beating erratically against their ribcages. Zayn vaguely wonders if Harry can feel his. When they finally stop wheezing, Zayn eases out of Harry and murmurs an apology into Harry's ear as the lad hisses and digs his fingernails into Zayn's skin. Zayn slowly lets go of Harry's hip and Harry retrieves the arm he had wrapped around Zayn, massaging it for having been in that odd angle all this while.

 

Harry pokes at the spot when he sees Zayn looking quite fixatedly at the hickey he sucked onto Harry's skin at the last moment and makes a small distressed sound. He pouts up at Zayn and Zayn thinks -

 

 _Fucked_ , he thinks he's absolutely fucked.

 

xx

 

The raven-haired lad can't seem to stop touching Harry it seems. Not that Harry's complaining but everyone knows Harry's a human reincarnation of a cat, so that's not saying much, but. But Zayn minds actually. He has been glaring at his hand for approximately as long as his hand has been running over various parts of Harry's body. It's quite ridiculous really.

 

They know that the others came in about half an hour ago because Liam had knocked on his door to check on him (and had also given him the We're-Going-To-About-This-Tomorrow Eyebrows when he learnt that Harry was here).

 

"What did Liam say, by the way?" Harry asks, butting at Zayn's hand because he momentarily stopped scratching his scalp. "I forgot to ask."

 

"Eh, nothing, just gave me the eyebrows," Zayn replies, shrugging. His likes the way Harry's body moves with his because of that small action.

 

"Oh, the eyebrows," Harry draws out comically, a cheeky smile spreading on his lips. Opening his eyes, he waggles his eyebrows at Zayn. "Bet he's thinking you're debauching me right now."

 

"Except I'm not and I didn't. I distinctly remember a certain curly-haired giant begging me to give it to him," Zayn teases.

 

"Yeah," Harry snorts, "Well, if only I had known you're one of those types, I wouldn't have bothered with you at all."

 

"One of what types?" Zayn demands.

 

"You know, the whole talk all night after sex and cuddle thing," Harry says nonchalantly.

 

"Are you kidding me," Zayn says flatly, "You are like the king of cuddles, Harry."

 

"Yeah, well, but that's me. Didn't expect _you_ to be and it's not a bad thing. Just...different."

 

Zayn doesn't know why this irks him, but it does; and even though Harry just said it's not a bad thing, Zayn hasn't forgotten that he also said he wouldn't have had sex with him if he knew about his liking for after-sex cuddles which to be completely fair, Zayn only found out about today. It irritates him - this whole business, along with how he just can't seem to stop touching Harry, which is why he forces himself to push Harry off of his chest right then.

 

"Hey," Harry whines, expression completely petulant when he turns his green doe eyes to Zayn.

 

"I only cuddled because you like them," Zayn says quickly and goes to turn away. He needs a fag now, there's that familiar clawing feeling creeping up his throat from the lack of one for so long.  

 

"Well, then continue cuddling because I still like them." Harry pouts, and then continues, "Besides, everyone in this band loves cuddling, so don't give me that bullshit. Now, cuddle."

 

Zayn huffs out a laugh and shakes his head helplessly. Looking at Harry staring him down, he gives in within three seconds and scoops his bandmate back into his arms. Settling back against the pillows, he rubs circles on Harry's back while Harry hums contently against his collarbone.

 

"I missed your cuddles," Harry whispers on his skin after a while, and it makes Zayn freeze. "You probably don't want to hear that, but, yeah."

 

Harry looks up at Zayn when he doesn't resume either of scalp-massage or back rubs and smiles crookedly. It looks a little heartbroken and a little understanding. Zayn wants to throw up.

 

"I missed," Zayn coughs, "I missed you actually."

 

He doesn't actually mean to say that. He meant to say that he missed cuddling with everyone, but somehow looking into Harry's foresty green eyes shining so brightly even in the dark made him spill that out. And it's worth it, if the smile that breaks out on Harry's face is anything to go by.

 

"Yeah?" Harry asks. "Why'd you leave?"

 

Zayn knows what Harry's really asking because it's not like he ever physically left. In fact, there were many a times Zayn had wondered if actually leaving would have made it better and easier for everyone involved - not just him, but his bandmates, his family, his friends and even his PR team. But every single time somehow or the other he convinced himself, being here was the best decision. He never really talked to anyone about it simply because he didn't think they would actually understand. He's always been afraid of being written off as being melodramatic and an angst-ridden teenager but now, hearing the genuine curiosity in Harry's voice, it makes him want to share for once.

 

"I - " Zayn starts, sighs, and then tries again, "Everything got too much. Not just, like, criticism from people who don't know me which you know, I'm great at saying 'fuck you' to. But."

 

"But?" Harry prompts. Zayn nudges Harry's head back down on his chest so that he doesn't have to look at him and feels a little calmer when he Harry goes without complaint. Harry starts tracing the wing tattoos on his chest idly.

 

"But I think things feel truly shit when it comes from people close to you. Like. Baba stopped giving me rules once I got into this band but he always said not to do anything he wouldn't and - and it's great advice. Because, fuck, you know my dad, Haz. He's so morally upright and such and to try and follow him _will_ keep me correctly guided," Zayn says, a hollow feeling blooming in his chest from how he misses his family and his dad especially. "So you know that I would never cheat on Perrie and I haven't ever actually."

 

"What's the problem, then?" Harry asks, lips dragging along Zayn's skin.

 

"Guess Perrie never believed me," is all Zayn says.

 

"Oh."

 

"Yeah."

 

"Then?"

 

"You know, the age-old story," Zayn replies, voice low and sad, remembering each of the events in that relationship. "She thinks I cheated, we fight, she tells me she believes me but she actually doesn't and the moment I turn my back she fucks someone else. It's not her fault though - "

 

"Yes, it is!" Harry says fiercely, glaring up at Zayn as though he's somehow at fault for so much as even suggesting such a thing.

 

"Not really. I mean, with so many people telling her I cheated and those 'journalists' and tumblr bloggers who like to analyse my moves and give an in-depth explanation as to how and when and even _why_ I cheated," Zayn says, laughing self-deprecatingly. "I never would have cared for those, or would have learnt to ignore but when those turned Perrie against me, I guess I lost it. I just - "

 

"Just?"

 

"I started hating this life," Zayn whispers, afraid of what he's admitting.

 

Harry sits up and peers down at him seriously. Zayn refuses to meet his gaze. "Do you actually?" Harry asks.

 

"No."

 

"Really?"

 

"I. No. Seriously! I just dislike that lately, it feels like we've become less about music and more about everything else. And that people attack me for things that aren't really their business and for not showing my face at every opportunity I get because why should I? I mean it's not like I don't already live half my life on the stage, I don't see why I have to be out and seen about all the fucking time and - "

 

"Breathe," Harry cuts, placing a calming hand on Zayn chest. "Breathe, calm down. Essentially you do dislike this life."

 

Harry smiles at him, except it's not really a smile but an ironic twist of lips that seem so alien on Harry's usually cheerful face.

 

"No. Yeah. I guess? Just, I love singing. Just want to sing," Zayn says, sighing and grabbing Harry's hand. He brings the hand to his lips and presses a kiss to Harry's knuckles. It's disgustingly romantic but Harry doesn't seem to mind so Zayn presses down another kiss before carding his fingers through Harry's and tugs him down.

 

Harry settles back against his side and places their clasped hands on Zayn's chest. His head rests beside Zayn's and the way they're sharing a pillow feels so very natural that Zayn gives in to the urge to kiss Harry.

 

When they break apart, Zayn can't stop smiling and he turns away before Harry can make a teasing comment.

 

Harry nuzzles his head into the crook of Zayn's neck and says, "It's never going to be _just_ singing, you know that right?"

 

Forcing himself to relax, Zayn slowly says, "Yeah. Yeah I know."

 

"We're always going to be a part of your life also. As in the four of us."

 

"I know that too."

 

"Ignoring us is not very smart then."

 

Zayn lets out a surprised laugh because Harry sounds so goddamn _smug_ at having made Zayn seem stupid. "Yeah, you wanker. It's not very smart. It's. I - uh. I didn't know how to be around you guys without not telling you anything."

 

"What's wrong with telling? You're telling me now," Harry replies, sounding downright indignant.

 

"Because I actually want to. Before, it would have been you guys making me want to because I couldn't stand all of your guilt-trips and poutings," Zayn replies, snorting.

 

Harry laughs lightly, breath puffing out to hit Zayn throat. "Yeah, true. But...why'd you - why did you ignore me the most?"

 

Harry asks that so fast that Zayn almost doesn't catch it. He wouldn't have if not for the fact that Harry is speaking nearly into his ear and he can't not hear it. Zayn knows that he'll never truly be able to explain why he did that because he himself doesn't understand it fully yet, but it seems like tonight whatever Harry's asking, Harry's getting.

 

Zayn opens his mouth to reply and he's right - he doesn't have an answer straight away.

 

"You don't have to say," Harry mumbles. He sounds apologetic and Zayn doesn't get why. He never understood why (or how) Liam and Harry always apologized for things they didn't even do when Zayn has trouble doing so for things he actually messed up.

 

"No. As in, I want to," Zayn says. "I. Shit, I'm going to sound like a major tosser. I just. I think it's because you probably _could have_ understood me and I wanted to feel righteous in my loneliness and how only I was going through such problems, and I didn't want to give you a chance to prove me wrong?"

 

"Are you asking me?" It's not the first time Zayn's heard Harry being sharp and like all the other times, this time makes him wince too.

 

"No. As in, fuck, it's hard to explain. That's all I'm going to say. Take it or leave it, Harry."

 

"Fine. And yes, you're a fucked up cunt."

 

Zayn grimaces and tries to summon the words required to apologize but -

 

But they don't emerge.

 

"Yeah, okay I know you're not going to say sorry. You can stop trying," Harry says drily.

 

It's a wonder really, how no amount of time spent apart ever seems to actually cause any interruption in the strange telepathic connection their band shares.

 

"What time do we have to wake up tomorrow?" Zayn asks after a while when sleep eludes him and Harry continues to hum unknown melodies on him.

 

"Hmm? Don't know. Doesn't matter. We've got all night before dawn arrives, we can stay awake, catching up," Harry says, smiling softly at him - _The night was young and so were we, Talked about life, God, death, and your family_ \- and Zayn's heart skips a cliched beat. "I haven't heard you wax poetic about books in quite some time."

 

"Thought you hated it," Zayn points out, remembering all the times Harry fell asleep on him when he used to talk about _Frankenstein_ and _The Yellow Wallpaper_ and _Crime and Punishment_.

 

"Guess we miss what we lose," Harry replies in a sage-like voice and almost carries it off until he giggles like he's the funniest thing he's ever known.

 

Zayn laughs at Harry's antics, fondness spreading through him and he wonders how he ever managed to ignore this for _months_.

 

"Been wanting to read The Great Gatsby actually. Because of the movie and the last time I read it was four-five years ago? Forgotten, like, some of the intricate parts of the book."

 

"Yeah, you _should_ re-read it," Harry says, suddenly excited. When Zayn looks at him surprised, Harry laughs and says, "Don't look so shocked! That's so condescending, Malik. I read too, just not anything and everything I come across like you do. But Gatsby has been my favourite for a long time."

 

"Huh. Who knew?" Zayn says, but he's smiling and ruffles Harry's hair when the boy bites him.

 

"Horrible, you are. But yeah, it's amazing."

 

"But there's hardly been any free time to read lately, so," Zayn trails off. He brushes his fingertips over Harry's shoulder blades and tries to understand how it's so effortless to fall back into old habits.

 

"But you're always cooped up in your room," Harry points out, jabbing at Zayn's side for emphasis.

 

"I sleep. This tour is sapping all the energy. I need sleep. I've been sleeping all the time we're not supposed to do anything and believe me, we are doing something most of the time," Zayn replies, voice dangerously monotone.

 

"Calm down," Harry soothes, reaching up a hand to cup Zayn's cheek while he litters the other with soft kisses. "I'm starting to think you've anger management issues."

 

Zayn snorts, but snuggles into Harry's embrace, loving the attention he's being given. "I thought we all figured that out the day I showed the finger to the paps and management sat me down and gave me a _lecture_ like I'm a recalcitrant juvie."

 

Harry blinks at him, slow and bambi-like, and says in all seriousness, "How does it even occur to you to use words like 'recalcitrant' in normal conversations at 4 _am_?"

 

He can't point out why but that's not what he expected to come out of Harry's mouth. He laughs, the sound ringing out and he rolls away from the need to move with the joy within him. It's one of _those_ laughs, the kind where the entire body has to participate for it to be fully experienced and appreciated and Zayn can't remember the last time he laughed like this. Felt the laughter come straight from his belly rather than it just be an empty sound rattling out of his sore lungs. He hears Harry join him after a few seconds and they are clutching each other as they try to get their laboured breathing under control.

 

When they settle back down, they are tangled together so close, it's impossible to say where one ends and where the other starts. Zayn is immeasurably glad for Harry's penchant for cleanliness because if they hadn't cleaned up the after-sex mess, Zayn would never have been so comfortable rolling around in bed like this. Or having one of Harry's thighs between his legs, or stomach pressed against his side.

 

It's when their chests start to rise and fall in steady cadence, and sleep seems to be pulling on their eyelids, that Harry asks, "Are you still with Perrie then?"

 

Zayn almost doesn't answer, he doesn't know how to. He knows if he doesn't say anything Harry won't pester him this time, that if he pretends to be asleep Harry will let him get away even though they both know he's pretending. Which is why, he replies, "No, I'm not. But to the world, I am. Both our managements are refusing."

 

"Okay," and Harry's voice is so small but so emotionless that Zayn doesn't know how to interpret or what to reply.

 

So he doesn't. Instead he finds himself wondering if he said the wrong thing, and if he should have just kept his mouth shut after all.

 

"Stop thinking so much. Sleep," Harry says drowsily. Zayn feels the imprint of lips on his temple and he closes his eyes, exhaling all of his tension out.

 

xx

 

He might wake up sometime later, a couple of hours after that maybe, to find Harry sprawled completely over his body. Zayn smiles then, feels a calm settle over him - _And say, oh, whoa, Things are gonna change now, for the better_ \- because it's been so long. So long since there's been such a connection to anyone at all and it kind of makes sense now that it's _Harry_ who has ended up here.

 

xx

 

If anyone ever asks Zayn what's wrong he would, first of all, tell them to _fuck off, none of your business_ and then, depending on who's asking, admit that he doesn't know what he did wrong.

 

Zayn isn't a lovesick girl, or a girl in any way, thus it makes no sense he is feeling this _betrayed_ that Harry wasn't there the morning-after when he woke up. It's completely irrational and Zayn knows it too. Except, the lad hadn't expected it (and really, maybe all his problems arise from having too many expectations) from Harry of all people, and especially since they had talked for so long throughout the night. The sex in itself was great, yes, sort of an eye-opening experience to Zayn that maybe he's been having sex with the wrong people all this while, but that wasn’t - _isn’t_ \- of the most import. No, it was all the sharing secrets afterwards and nestling under the covers that really made the difference.

 

So, maybe Zayn _is_ a girl.

 

It's just that if none of that had happened, if Zayn had just sent Harry back to his room afterwards or if Harry hadn't coaxed Zayn into opening up, maybe he wouldn't be feeling like, well, _abandoned_ for the lack of a better word.

 

Zayn hates that word.

 

He’s not a pet that needs to be taken care of.

 

But it doesn’t help that it’s actually been about five days since that night and Harry has been avoiding him like he’s got something worse than plague. It’s only a couple of days but they feel so very long - _Four weeks felt like years, Since your full attention was all mine_ \- and if it wasn’t putting Zayn in this destroy-the-entire-universe black mood, he would honestly find it funny how easy it is to deflect people in this band. Zayn’s done it for months now, Niall does it by jetting off to Ireland without telling anyone, Liam goes for fake-runs for hours on end, Louis just throws plates at anyone who comes near him when he wants to be alone - it’s really quite absurd how when one of them puts their mind to it, the others can’t reach them at all despite them being in a band together. In fact, being in a band makes it worse probably. Because then, the band sort of inevitably starts taking sides.

 

Like now when Niall seems to be helping Harry avoid Zayn.

 

Zayn doesn’t blame Niall, he doesn’t. He gets why Niall’s doing what he’s doing - after all, someone must be there to support Harry and make him feel welcome in their group of friends for whatever decision he has made. Zayn understands all of it, barring the little fact that he doubts Harry has actually told Niall what truly happened (in fact, Zayn doesn’t think Harry told anyone anything at all), and Zayn is pissed off at this blatant favouritism on Niall’s part. Mostly because it interferes with his plans of cornering Harry, but still, _favouritism_.

 

But that’s so hypocritical of Zayn because Liam and Louis have been on his side ever since, no questions asked either, and Zayn thinks that’s mostly because they’re just very grateful he has stopped ignoring all of them. However, considering that he got the nosier friends of the lot on his side, Zayn isn’t all that much happy about it. He has been on edge, just waiting for them to pounce on him and demand to know what’s wrong, and it’s making his skin crawl from the restlessness.

 

“Okay so, spill,” Louis says, flopping on top of Zayn the moment he enters the lounge, and Zayn almost smiles, thinking: _and there it is_. “You’ve been right a mopey bastard the past few days and I want to know why.”

 

“I’m always like that.”

 

“No, you like to brood and avoid people and sleep. Not stare at Harry like he killed all your non-existent kids _and_ puppies,” Louis counters. “Liam agrees.”

 

“Oh and that makes you right, huh?” Zayn snorts.

 

“Of course, Liam’s always right,” Louis states with a completely straight face, making Zayn afraid that he actually believes what he’s saying. “Now, tell uncle Louis about all your woes.”

 

"That's so stupid," Zayn says and when Louis just pointedly stares at him, he sighs. "Fine. I'll tell you but get off me. Your bum is making my legs feel dead."

 

Louis rolls his eyes and slides off Zayn to sit beside him. Louis looks at him with sharp, blue eyes and arches his eyebrows until Zayn finally gives in. He tells the older lad about what had happened, glossing over the intimate details until Zayn realises that almost all of that night is intimate to him and Louis essentially knows the bare minimum. It's not that he doesn't trust Louis with the knowledge, it's just that he would rather savour those moments alone than with someone who didn't even experience it. He knows no matter how well he explains it to Louis, or how detailed he is, Louis will never really know the depth of the feelings evoked that night, and so he doesn't want to demean the memories by laying them out in the open like that.

 

Once Zayn finishes talking, the first thing Louis says is, "You're shit at storytelling."

 

Zayn grunts but otherwise doesn't say anything.

 

"But, okay. That's. Um - " Louis stutters.

 

"What?" Zayn asks, rubbing a tired hand over his face.

 

"Look, okay. I know stuff about Harry, yeah? And he has reasons to be avoiding you now. And in other circumstances I would probably side with him, but it's _you_ and it’s also fucking with the band more than it did when _you_ were avoiding _Harry_ , so...Harry's going to have to do without my support this time," Louis says, eyes wide and hands gesturing wildly as if to tell Zayn something he isn't physically saying.

 

"What? Is that supposed to mean you're going to help me or something?" Zayn asks, eyebrows furrowing.

 

"Bingo! But if Harry asks, I had nothing to do with this, understand? Okay, so, I’ll lure Harry into my room, and lock him in, yeah? You go in and...do what it is that you want to do, but you better ask for a change of sheets if you fuck on my bed,” Louis says, eyes narrowing.

 

“I highly doubt we’re going to fuck, Louis. He doesn’t even want to talk to me, I don’t think he’ll be jumping into my arms anytime soon,” Zayn says, exasperation clear in the way he rolls his eyes and huffs.

 

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Louis asks, leering at him until Zayn shoves his face away. Louis laughs and swats at his hand. “I’ll get Liam to keep Niall busy also, okay?”

 

Zayn glances at Louis sidelong, and thanks his lucky stars for being swaddled with such amazing friends. He might be a jerk a lot of the time, and he might ignore his friends for far too long to be socially acceptable but somehow his friends love him still, and for that Zayn is forever grateful he got put in this band.

 

“Um, thanks. You know, for this,” Zayn mumbles under his breath, refusing to look at where he knows Louis is staring at him.

 

“You’re such a shit, you know that?” Louis asks, but he sounds indulgent, and he’s smiling in that soft, gooey way of his which always means he’s going to initiate a cuddle-attack soon. Zayn smiles at him, just a small lift of the corners of his lips and he knows that Louis gets it.

 

It’s about half an hour later, after Louis had cuddled with him to his heart’s content and disturbed Liam by messing up his packing, that Zayn gets a message from Louis. Zayn rushes out to Louis’ door as per instruction and finds the short lad there, waiting for him with a hip cocked out and his room key in hand.

 

“Here, Harry’s in there. If he asks, you have an extra of my key, yeah?” Louis says once Zayn is near enough, handing him the key. It feels heavy and burning in Zayn’s palm, and Zayn knows he’s imagining it but it still makes him want to run back to his room and ignore all of this.

 

Now that he does have Harry where he wants him, Zayn’s suddenly unsure what he wants to talk to the younger boy about. He can demand answers but he knows that he can’t do anything if Harry rebels. Zayn feels a little apprehensive of his own actions and the ramifications of tricking Harry into talking to him - if Harry doesn’t want to, then shouldn’t Zayn just respect his wishes?

 

Zayn’s about turn back towards his own room when Louis grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him.

 

“No, don’t. Don’t run away thinking about what _you_ think Harry thinks. Okay, way too many 'thinks' in that sentence, but. This is so that you can find out what Harry is really thinking, not you making the decisions for him. Go in there, and sort this shit out,” Louis states firmly.

 

He nods almost like he’s on autopilot and dutifully places the key inside the lock. He hears Louis whisper a good luck before he’s gone running down the hallway and it’s just Zayn left there. Left there to turn the handle and properly talk to Harry in five days which feel like five eons.

 

As he turns the door, and before he even sees Harry, he hears the gravelly voice call out, “Louis! Thank god, I think you accidentally locked - oh. Um.”

 

Zayn’s face heats up when Harry continues to stare at him like he’s grown three heads, and he knows he should provide some explanation but he probably couldn’t even pry open his lips with a crowbar if he wanted to.

 

Eventually though, Harry says, “So, you cornered me?”

 

“No!” Zayn exclaims, and then blushes in a rather telling manner. “Yeah? Look, you were avoiding me and - “

 

“Did you stop to think there’s a reason I was doing that?” Harry snaps, crossing his arms across his chest and Zayn feels his eyes zone in on the muscles bunching there. He shakes himself out of the stupor he was about to go into and looks back up at Harry.

 

“I - yeah. Yeah, I did actually. But then, I remembered that the both of us haven’t talked for the past six months because I avoided you for stupid reasons I created in my head and they were foolish and if I just talked to you or the boys, I wouldn’t have felt so alone these last few months. And I just. I just want to know why you’re being like this, Harry, when it’s you who forced me to talk to you about everything that night,” Zayn expresses, looking away from Harry.

 

Harry feels a little too bright to look at right now, in his white vest and low-slung slacks and face free of from the curls tucked into a beanie. Zayn walks towards the small sofa in the corner of the room and sits, looking down at his lap. He hears Harry sigh and shuffle towards him. Harry drops onto the seat beside him, and Zayn can’t help but notice the careful two-inches of space Harry has left between them.

 

It seems so innocuous, those two inches, but it’s not really, not when Harry and him have never known to leave spaces between their bodies; and the sight of the gap is more offensive than anything else, Zayn thinks.

 

xx

 

They both have their heads rested on the back of the sofa. Harry hasn’t replied him yet and Zayn hasn’t pushed any further.

 

“It’s not fair. To me,” Harry says finally, “I’m not you. My reasons for trying to avoid you aren’t the same as yours. I didn’t want to be here, talking about this. I didn’t want to talk to you until I - “

 

Harry breaks off, and Zayn waits with bated breath because every single word Harry utters seems to be stabbing into Zayn’s heart. It’s not so much the words themselves, but the tone they are said in and the hidden meanings behind them that has Zayn feeling so weak - _Lines and phrases, like knives, Your words can cut me through_ \- and his soul naked.

 

“Until I got over these _feelings_ ,” Harry says, voice curling in disgust and he sounds so much like Louis that if Zayn wasn’t busy trying to catch up to what just said, he would laugh.

 

Zayn sucks in a sharp breath, and turns towards Harry. Harry is pointedly not looking at him, but up at the ceiling.

 

“Feelings?” Zayn probes weakly.

 

“Yeah. Stupid right? The whole sex was stupid,” Harry says, and Zayn’s heart thuds painfully in his chest at that, “Talking after that like we’re in a relationship or something was even worse.”

 

“But - “ Zayn starts, and then pauses when he can’t figure out how to say it without sounding like a sap. “But I don’t see why that’s bad,” is what he settles for.

 

Harry snorts. “You won’t.”

 

“No, as in. Harry, listen. I know you think I don’t understand what you’re going through but come on, it’s _me_. I’ve always understood,” Zayn says, knowing that he’s making a mess out of the situation. He isn’t saying what he really wants to say, instead stalling with words that don’t quite make sense.

 

“But what if I don’t want you to understand? A bit like you, isn’t it? I don’t want you to be involved because I want to fix it myself, because _you’re_ the problem,” Harry reveals, sitting up and looking at him with hurt eyes.

 

It feels like a punch to the solar plexus, to see the hurt swimming in Harry’s eyes, to see the green shining in that particular way that indicates he’s feeling too emotional because Zayn can tell somehow it’s all his fault even if he doesn’t really know what it is exactly that he did wrong.

 

"But Harry, that's the thing. I'm trying to tell you that I - I hate that you've been avoiding me. And I hated it back then when I avoided you, just that I already did it for so long, I didn't know how to go back to normal. But I can't just let you stop talking to me again, I _can't_. Because these feelings you're talking about, it's not just you, okay?" Zayn says, tone pleading for Harry to understand all that he's not saying, all that he can't say yet.

 

"And I'm saying that, that's not enough. That you telling me that doesn't make me believe it. Come on, you expect to believe that based on one night and some usual catching up we would normally do anyway - just with more clothes on - has suddenly made you realise you have some sort of feelings for me?" Harry sneers.

 

"No. I - " Zayn doesn't know how to say that maybe the feeling has always been there, he just didn't recognise it. Maybe he just didn't know how to act on it, and he only knew to push it away because people fear the unknown and that feeling till recently has been something alien to Zayn, something without a name or an identity. Instead he says, "Isn't it the same for you? You too realised these feelings now, Harry. Don't see why different rules apply to me."

 

"Because I didn't. Despite what you think, you don't actually know everything about me. You don't know when these feelings started for me and what having sex meant to me. You don't, and I just - I can't alright? I've always been second choice for people and I can't anymore. I need to put myself first and," Harry pauses mid-sentence to heave in a large breath, as if to calm himself, "And maybe that's unfair to you, for me to decide this now in your case. But it's not really. Because you've already hurt me once, Zayn, no matter how unwittingly it may actually have been."

 

Zayn's a little speechless because what does one even say to that? He doesn't know which shitheads never put Harry first, and how they didn’t when it’s _Harry_ in question - the Harry who's always putting every other person before himself, the Harry who's so selfless it feels like a miracle to simply be in his presence, the Harry who's just so amazing it more than just boggles the mind, the Harry who's so handsome it might possibly be unparalleled. And Zayn can go on, can mentally write a list long enough to wrap twice around the earth.

 

"I don't know what to say," is all Zayn finally says. He slumps back onto the sofa.

 

Harry slips a hand into his, and entwines their fingers together. Harry's palm feels like it's a bit too warm, like always, and Zayn stares down at their joined hands.

 

"It's not just that, you know," Harry says softly, "You're sort of with Perrie still, even if it's our management's fault. And I'm not asking you to break up with her or saying that if you weren't with her, this might not happen. It still might. But it's just worse because you _are_ with her, and after Louis, I can't do that anymore."

 

"But, Harry - fuck. Louis wanted to be with El and you both and I don't think he knew what he really wanted for a long time," Zayn protests, "Which is why it became a mess. I don't - I'm not saying I'm going to jump into a relationship with you now after officially breaking up with Perrie, because I mean, shit, there's still so much to know about each other. And I just want to be able to be at least normal with you, not like the last few months, and just be able talk to you when I want, or go out for lunch - just the two of us. Or stay in bed all day. Just do what we want and or anything you want, just not have you cut me out like I did you."

 

"Bit hypocritical of you, isn't it?"

 

"No, I was stupid and now I just want - "

 

"Why is it about what you want though? Why not my wants? Louis loved Eleanor you know, and it was my fault in the end everything went to shit. I can't be that person twice. You love Perrie, have for a long time, I'm not going to put myself in this position where I confuse you," Harry says, shaking his head. When he looks at Zayn, there's only determination in those eyes and Zayn knows he can't change his mind.

 

But that doesn't mean he won't try.

 

"But you're not going to confuse me, Harry. I don't love Perrie - "

 

"You say that now. Fuck, Zayn," Harry exclaims, wrenching his hand away and standing up. He paces the room twice before whirling around and glaring at Zayn. "You don't get what I've been trying to say the whole time. You _say_ you don't love Perrie, fuck, I don't think anyone of us even knew about your break up. Until me, and that was five days ago. So pardon me if I don't just take your word for it that you don't love her. That the only reason you're still with her is management. People change in six months, Zayn, and so what if you were in front of me physically, there was absolutely no connection between us this time and I just can't take your word for it like I would have if you told me six months _ago_ , when I hadn't gone through the process of wondering every single day why my best mate has suddenly stopped talking to me for no apparent reason!"

 

Zayn looks at him wide-eyed. The thing is, Harry never shouts. He barely ever gets angry enough to shout; he usually gets frustrated and sad, but not angry like this and all it serves to tell Zayn is that he has screwed up so bad.

 

"Haz," Zayn says, voice weak and defeated, "If you ignore me now, if we don't talk now, I'll never win back that trust, or the friendship."

 

"Not now, yeah I guess not," Harry replies, sighing. "I need to get over this before we start talking. The past six months, I was alright, almost gotten over you - just that some nights I would wonder what I ever did wrong, and everything felt so incomplete. But knowing the truth now, why you did what you did and what it means for me, I can finally get over you. It won't be too long. It's not like I'm in love with you, just need to be able to look at you without wanting to - yeah. Unlike you, I'll be back to normal in a month, and it's alright, Zayn. Our friendship has lasted for so long, another month isn't too much to wait before we fix all the problems."

 

Harry has walked over to Zayn, and kneeling in front of him, he kisses him. Just a brush of lips that feel very chaste and lasts far too short a time. Zayn chases the feel of Harry's lips when he pulls back but Harry stands up and Zayn is left looking dazed.

 

"We'll be alright, just not yet," Harry says, voice barely being carried over in the stagnant room, and he walks over to the door.

 

Zayn wonders if Harry is going to look over his shoulder at him for one last time like in those movies because it feels like a 'last time' even though they are going to see each other tomorrow.

 

Harry doesn't.

 

xx

 

 _If life had background music, Playing your song_ \- it's so cliched really but Zayn reasons that cliches are cliches for a reason, that it's because they _do_ tend to happen too often that they become a cliche and hence, it's alright that he's feeling like this.

 

See, the thing is, Zayn is nothing if not patient and he knows how to respect people's wishes (at least the explicit ones); so, he has religiously been giving Harry his space ever since The Talk three days ago but the fact is, now that Zayn's aware what that mysterious feeling from so long ago actually is (although he still finds it hard to admit even to himself that he has a big, fat crush on Harry Styles), Harry seems to be all that he sees in everything in life these days.

 

Barring the fact that they are touring together and he spends more time around Harry than not, even if he isn't interacting with him personally, it's one of those cases where Zayn looks at a decorative potted plant across the room and thinks about how Harry would probably like to Instagram it. It's fucking ridiculous, is what it is, because if it hadn't been for his own stupidity he could have just turned to Harry and made a quip about it. Now, he's stuck staring forlornly at the damn plant, wondering how his life came to such pathetic terms.

 

Zayn tries to surreptitiously look at Harry sitting to the right of him, on another couch - that's another thing he has developed. Trying to look at Harry without letting the lad know about it that is; because the first few times he blatantly stared at him to the point it was considered _gawking_ and Harry kept catching him in the act. Harry didn't blush, or giggle like he used to whenever he would find Louis openly check him out back during the X-Factor days, instead, in Zayn's case, he frowned or pointedly looked away. All this has served to do though, is to teach Zayn how to check someone out without alerting their sixth sense.

 

Harry is on his phone as usual, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he types away rapidly. It itches Zayn to look over his shoulder and find out what has him so preoccupied but Zayn digs his fingers into his own thighs to stay himself. He wonders when they are going to be called in for the interview, and when he can have something else to concentrate on. All this waiting around is making him go crazy from the restlessness.

 

When he finds a warm, callused palm sliding around the back of his neck, he looks up to see Liam smiling down at him sympathetically. Liam slowly massages his shoulders and Zayn only then notices how tense and knotted his muscles have become. He sighs as the tension leaks out of his body second by second, and reaches up to squeeze one of Liam's hands in a silent thanks.

 

"Wanna go out and talk?" Liam asks softly, ensuring that only Zayn hears him.

 

Zayn nods and gets up, following Liam out onto the balcony they saw on their way coming in.

 

"How are you holding up?" Liam asks once they are outside.

 

Zayn looks around, checking to see if there is anyone lurking around downstairs who could hear them even though they are on the second storey.

 

Zayn shakes his head, and then with a practised hand, lights up a much needed cigarette.

 

After Zayn exhales the first drag, he says, "Alright. I'm alright. Just want to know how Harry is."

 

"Harry is not your business though, is he? I thought that was the deal," Liam comments.

 

"Other than me giving him space, there has been no other deal," Zayn mutters, inhaling harshly to allow the smoke to burn his lungs.

 

"That shouldn't be too bad, you've been doing a rather great job of it for the past few months of your own accord," Liam says.

 

His tone is very carefully neutral and it makes Zayn want to punch the wall he's leaning against. Instead, he placidly replies, "You've been spending far too much time with Louis if that's become your version of consoling."

 

"Well."

 

When Liam doesn't expound any further, and they are both engulfed in blessed silence for some time, Zayn says, "I'm sorry, you know. That I wasn't there for you when you were going through all that with Danielle. That you had to turn to Louis, not because he's the better choice, which he probably is, but simply because I wasn't there. I'm sorry I was such a shit best friend."

 

"Oh, Zayn," Liam breathes, "I want to say it's alright. Forgive you like Louis so easily did, but I'm just as angry as Harry is. More even. Because you were supposed to come to me but you didn't and that's why I'm angry. Not because you weren't there for me. But because you didn't even let me be there for _you_."

 

"And you wonder why everyone calls you Saint Liam. You're, like, so innately good even after being around me for so long, it's a fucking miracle."

 

"Shut up, I'm not good. I've been very naughty lately," Liam says, giggling like he always does when he says words he thinks are inappropriate.

 

"Oh my god. Just don't. Don't say 'naughty' like that ever again," Zayn groans, but there's a smile emerging on his face, and Liam laughs.

 

"But to be honest, it's hard to stay angry at you. And maybe that's because you're my best friend, plain and simple and there aren't these complicated feelings you have with Harry. So as much as I would like to say Harry will be alright soon, I really don't know," Liam says, sounding far more apologetic than he should, and he drags Zayn close by a hand thrown over the older lad's shoulder. "But, I think, and Louis will disagree probably - I think, you should go out, and party and just enjoy. Get all this off your mind, even for a little while, yeah? That helped me last year. Who knows?"

 

"You wanted to get over Dani, Liam. I don't want to get over Harry," Zayn points out.

 

"Doesn't matter though, does it? Because at the end of the day, if you continue following Harry's wishes which I know you enough to know you will, then you liking him isn't going to matter much. Harry will be very much over you and you'll eventually have to move on."

 

Zayn peers up at Liam and figures that Liam is right; and that Liam is still just looking out for him as usual. So he ends up saying a _yes, okay_ to Liam's plans of clubbing later that evening and hopes he's doing the right thing.

 

As it happens, Zayn soon realises that whether his actions are just or not is immaterial; because they are out clubbing in a seedy place Zayn doesn't know the name of and so far all he has done is dance with men whose looks bear resemblance to Harry.

 

It's really quite a disaster because not only is he dancing with men with curly hair or green eyes or dimpled smiles (and none of them have all three) but every single time he has ditched them halfway for not being up to par. Par with what - well, Zayn tries not to think about that because he has had enough of thinking _eyes are the wrong green_ and _hair feels all different_ for one night.

 

"So, none of them seems to hold your interest," the bartender comments when Zayn comes back for another drink.

 

Sliding into a stool, he looks out onto the dance floor, trying to find Liam amidst the throng of people. He looks over his shoulder at the bartender and says, "Give me something. Anything, surprise me. And yeah, no, they're not what I'm looking for I guess."

 

The bartender smiles at him, saying "Well, what are you looking for then? Maybe I can be of help."

 

And it occurs to Zayn that maybe there's more to this man starting a conversation with him than just normal bartender nosiness. And, well, the bartender is fit - fit as in completely un-Harry-like with his grey eyes and jet black hair slicked back, and very good body coordination considering the tricks he has been doing with mixing drinks all night. Zayn roams his eyes over him, and the bartender smirks as he returns the favour. Zayn swipes his tongue over his lips and the bartender's grin widens.

 

"Alec," he offers.

 

"Zayn," Zayn replies.

 

"Am I supposed to pretend I don't know who you are?" Alec asks, smile turning mischievous in a way that seems so familiar, but -

 

But Zayn pushes that out of his mind.

 

"Nah, I guess not, since you obviously do know who I am," Zayn replies, turning in his stool so that his attention is completely on Alec.

 

"So, you haven't told me yet," Alex begins, leaning forward on the counter and bringing his face that much closer to Zayn's. Someone calls for Alec to serve them a drink, but the bartender serenely ignores them. His attention is still very much stuck on Zayn, eyes pierced to Zayn's. "What is that you're looking for?"

 

"What if I said I found it?" Zayn asks, suddenly feeling bold from all the drinks he has already consumed or maybe from just desperately wanting to enjoy himself.

 

"I would say to give me twenty minutes. My shift will be over by then," Alec says, slowly straightening back up. He turns towards the other customers without saying anything else, just leaving Zayn with a loaded smirk.

 

It's only when Liam finds him moments later and announces, "Harry's here. Thought you should know. Louis, the _twat_ , brought him," that Zayn realises he never got his drink. And he really needs a drink right now.

 

Zayn isn't doing anything wrong - he's very much single and he doesn't owe Harry anything; ergo he does not have a single clue why the mere mention of Harry has him feeling guilty and heart beating out of rhythm. Zayn doesn't know if Harry knows he is here or even if he does, what he means by it, but Zayn just wants to meet Alec out in the back alley later because he's the only one Zayn's been attracted to tonight for reasons unrelated to Harry, except - _I've got to be honest, I tried to escape you, But the orchestra plays on_ \- Zayn will probably back out now and -

 

And he just wants to tear his hair out, really.

 

"I'm sorry," Liam says, leaning into his side, "Louis is being a dick about this."

 

Zayn shakes his head and smiles tightly at Liam. "Nah, it's okay. Just. Yeah, it's fine. Just feels a little pointless now, this coming out here."

 

Liam pouts at him, and gives him one last supportive squeeze on his shoulder before disappearing back into the crowd of people.

 

xx

 

Zayn truly doesn't meet Alec in the end and he feels a twinge of guilt in his stomach for standing up the poor bloke for that. Instead he spends the rest of the night prowling after Harry, quite possibly stalking him from the dimly-lit corners of the club. It's more than a little piteous but Zayn figures that he will simply blame it on the alcohol (he has only had two drinks, but, well, no one needs to know that).

 

And one second he was watching over Harry, eyeing him down one too many drinks with a critical sneer, and the next he is being shoved up the wall by the younger lad himself. Zayn had just looked away for a second, to check if Liam was still with Louis at the bar, and now he has Harry plastered to him. It feels like Harry's long fingers are burning through his shirt from where they are clutching at his waist and Harry's usually calm green eyes look wild.

 

"Been watching you," Harry growls into his ear, and it sends a shiver running up Zayn's spine, "Watching you watch me. It's so hard - hard to stay away."

 

Zayn can tell that despite the way Harry has a tight hold on him and is seemingly able to stand on his own, he has tipped over the edge into drunkenness if the way his words are slurred is anything to go by. The suspended moment's elation he felt when he thought Harry has finally given in shot straight to hell because Harry wouldn't be anywhere near him if he wasn't drunk.

 

But before he can push Harry off, Harry is scraping his teeth across the veins on Zayn's neck and trailing small, open-mouthed kisses up. Harry's lips feel feverish on his skin and they are doing nothing short of making his mind explode and fizzle out altogether. Harry's lips are on his before he can think much else, and it's rough, and hot, and wet. There's barely any finesse, just a need to push, push and _taste_ and Zayn lets Harry because there isn't anything he can actually do about it (or want to for that matter). Harry forces his tongue in, causing Zayn to moan and turn limp in Harry's arms, but somehow Harry has the mind to hold him up. Harry holds him, almost bending him in half, and pushed painfully against the wall as he kisses him, as he licks within Zayn's mouth with all the fervour Harry possesses.

 

"It's so difficult to stay away when I know," Harry breathes into his ear once he detaches from Zayn's abused lips, "When I know that I could have you. That even though it's good for me to stay away, I really, really don't want to. Fuck, Zayn."

 

Harry nibbles on his ear sloppily and deftly unbuttons the top two buttons of Zayn's shirt, as the older boy's mind races to catch up with what Harry just said. Harry's hot breath hits him on collarbones and it has him jerking out of the daze he was under.

 

"Harry, fu - " Zayn says, "Christ, Harry, stop."

 

Zayn pushes him off, only to reach out and hold the boy when Harry starts to crumple under his own weight. Zayn rolls his eyes, because _of course_ Harry is going to lose his footing now. Harry turns his face into Zayn's neck and nuzzles him.

 

"Hey, babe, stop that," Zayn says weakly, resolve already cracking. He shakes Harry by the upper arms until green eyes are peering up at him in somewhat less manic manner. "Harry, you don't want this. I know, because you haven't talked to me in the last three days and we're not doing this or anything till you're sober."

 

It hurts to pry Harry off him, hurts in the core of his being to separate when it's obvious they both don't want to, but Zayn does it anyway. A steely determination is filling in him for now he knows that whatever happens, he can never give Harry up. Even if Harry chooses to boycott him forever once tomorrow comes and he is sober - _Give me time to prove, Prove I want the rest of you_ \- Zayn is willing to wait however long it takes, and he'll never stop trying. It's melodramatic to say the least, and cheesy to the extent that it makes even Zayn himself nauseous but it's true. There's that certainty in him that he can't deny.

 

He looks at Harry who is still watching him, and says, "I hope you remember this tomorrow, but, I'm not doing anything tonight except to bring you back and tuck you into bed because I just want to prove that I can be that person who will always put you first. That I want to be everything to you and you, everything to me, if only you'll let it."

 

Zayn doesn't know what he expects, he doesn't really expect anything actually which is why it honestly doesn't hurt when Harry looks away without any acknowledgement, a blush lining his cheeks. It's satisfying though, Zayn must admit, that he got to him even in his intoxicated state.

 

Zayn brings him back to the hotel, and for once Harry is pliant enough. When they get out of the club, Zayn shields Harry from the flashes of cameras and hides his face in the crook of his neck, smirking at the thought of all the gifs and pictures that will be up on tumblr before the night is over with fangirls squealing over how cute they look together. Getting back to the hotel, Harry is already half-asleep and Zayn drags him to his room. Zayn tucks him into bed after taking off all his clothes for him (minus his boxers), and Zayn marvels at his own professionalism as he switches off the lights. He looks back at the sleeping boy curled up under the sheets one last time before leaving Harry’s room and hopes against hope that tomorrow it will be as it should be.

 

xx

 

What really happens though, is that Harry doesn't talk to him until they are in Mexico where they are to start the North American leg of the tour.

 

The days in between, which admittedly are only one or two (Zayn tends to lose count after the first two months), are however, dreadfully painful. The young man can't tell if Harry has gone back to ignoring him because he doesn't remember anything from that night or because he is still sticking to his resolution to get over the 'feelings' he claimed he has. Zayn ends up trailing after Harry like a lost puppy, trying to please him in any way possible (including tending to his needs before Harry even mentions them) but Harry simply glares at him until he leaves the younger boy alone. It's demeaning on a whole new level but Zayn consoles himself (or tries to) by saying it's only to show Harry his sincerity.

 

However, all of this has been making the day(s) pass ever so slowly that even sleeping doesn't help and he resorts to hanging out with Liam, which for some reason puts Louis on a warpath. Thus, he thought it would be either Liam (who would probably tell him to back off nicely before Louis hits him) or Louis (who would probably just hit him) who would come talk to him about his latest behaviour; instead he is surprised with the sight of Niall waiting outside his room the day they land in Mexico.

 

"Hey," Zayn says, confusion clear in his tone.

 

"Hey, mate. Can I come in?" Niall asks, smiling brightly.

 

"Yeah, yeah. Ni, you don't have to ask," Zayn replies, laughing nervously.

 

Niall gives him a pointed look but otherwise brushes past him into the hotel room.

 

"So, umm..."

 

"Awkward, yeah?" Niall says, smiling a bit and then brushing a hand through his hair in a gesture that Zayn knows to be a nervous tick.

 

"Sort of?" Zayn says.

 

"Look. I - wow, Harry _was_ right. I thought he was just talking shit 'cause he loves that Bambi movie."

 

" _What_ are you talking about?" Zayn asks.

 

"Nothing, you look like that fucking deer from that movie Harry keeps forcing me to watch when you go all wide-eyed like that," Niall says, waving a hand very unhelpfully towards Zayn's face and almost hitting him on the chin. "It's very hard to say anything with you looking like I killed your mother, mate."

 

Realisation finally dawns on Zayn and he squawks indignantly, "I don't look like Bambi!"

 

"Yeah, you do. Anyway, but, uh," Niall says, shifting restlessly on his feet before going over to sit on the couch.

 

Zayn follows after and says, "Okay, spit it out."

 

"I just don't understand why you're still trying to impress Harry when he clearly doesn't want to be bothered," Niall spits out really quickly, accent so thick it's only because Zayn's known him for so long that he doesn't have a problem understanding him.

 

"Did Harry ask you to tell me this?" Zayn asks sharply, amber eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. It's one thing to ignore him and rebuke his efforts, it's wholly another to send Niall to tell him off. If Harry has a problem, he can very well tell him so himself.

 

"No, no, he didn't. I think he's really confused. And he keeps me up all night, talking and talking and _talking_ ," Niall groans and Zayn laughs, relaxing. "Mate, Harry never shuts up, and it's not like Louis, he talks really slowly and you have him so confused that he keeps asking me what you mean by all this, and what he should do and whether he's doing the right thing. I mean, fuck off mate, does it look like I know?"

 

Niall sounds so frustrated, Zayn can't help but giggle some more. "You do realise that I've been around Harry as long as you have and I know how terrible his talking and his stories are, right?"

 

"Then why do you want to be with him?" Niall wails, flopping onto Zayn's lap. "I need sleep. Can you just give up so that I can get some fucking sleep for once?"

 

Zayn runs a hand through the shaggy blonde hair. It's going back to the length it used to be last year, and it's easier to ruffle his hair when it's like this.

 

"I really do want to be with Harry, you know?" Zayn says after a while. _It's not that I keep hanging on, I'm never letting go_ \- He doesn't quite know how to express himself, how to make Niall see what's inside him. "It's like, it doesn't matter if it will work out or not. Because I've already screwed up once, well, more than once probably, and I don't want to anymore. And not trying, _giving up_ \- that's screwing up. That's screwing up so massively, that - I don't even know, mate. I don't want to think about it."

 

"You really like him, huh?" Niall asks, looking up at Zayn with a positively gleeful grin from his lap.

 

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock," Zayn snorts.

 

"It's strange though," Niall comments.

 

"Why?"

 

"Well, because. You guys have been circling around this for years without even knowing, yeah? Even when Harry had all that going on with Lou, and you would be the one comforting him. Or last year, you guys basically lived at each other's places before you suddenly cut him off. I mean, we all saw this coming, except for you two. Maybe Harry did too, but you never did and now," Niall pauses, grin widening, "Now, you're the one already whipped. You brought him _scones_ this morning because he mentioned it _yesterday_ that he wants to eat some."

 

"Shut up," Zayn immediately says, face heating up, and he pushes Niall's face into the couch. He can hear Niall's muffled cackles even then and it makes him want to find the nearest cave to hide in. For eternity.

 

xx

 

It happens right before they are about to go on stage.

 

Zayn has been watching out for Harry - it's not as if there's anything wrong with Harry that he needs to check up on him, but he has always done this and -

 

_And he has always done this._

 

Zayn almost wants to smack himself for never having realised how right from the start he has always looked out for Harry, checked to see if his nerves are in control, if the boy is just plain old _alright_. It's so ludicrous of Zayn on so many levels for not having realised the signs that were right there in front of his face all this while, that he really just wants to go back in time and fix it all. And he's so engrossed in berating himself, and staring at the spot where Harry stood letting Lou put last minute make-up on him, that he doesn't realise that the boy in question is right in front of him until it's too late.

 

"Hey," Harry drawls, voice low and eyes jerking around the backstage to see if anyone's looking at them.

 

"Hi," Zayn replies, and even that one word sounds strained.

 

"I..." Harry starts, looks around again, and scratches his neck. "Niall told me, uh, what you told him this afternoon."

 

"Oh," Zayn expels in an exhale. He starts to frown. "And?"

 

"I, shit. I remember," Harry mumbles, eyes cast downwards as if in an apology. "Not, not because Niall talked to me because Niall doesn't know about that night right? But I remember you putting me to bed, even though I was half asleep. And I remember you saying all those things even though I was more than half-drunk."

 

"Then, why did you ignore me?" Zayn asks, frown deepening. "Why are you talking _now_?"

 

Harry looks up, and he looks so sad, and so much like a deer caught in headlight, heading towards imminent catastrophe that Zayn wants to reach out and comfort him until - Until he realises that _he's_ probably the catastrophe to Harry.

 

"Because I was so confused. I was prepared for you to give up, I was expecting you to just agree to wait this out, for me to stop liking you. And then you just flipped around and started being so... _you_. And I didn't know how to stay strong except to simply stay away because otherwise I would give in and this doesn't even make sense anymore. I just - _jesus_ , I just want to stop fighting it, Zayn," Harry says, voice pleading to the point of plaintive and this time Zayn does reach out.

 

He brings Harry close and breathes in the familiar scent that feels so much like home. Harry buries his head in his neck as usual, like a key fitting into it's lock and it makes Zayn breathe easy in a way he hasn't ever since The Talk.

 

"Stop fighting it, then," Zayn whispers into Harry's ear, and it feels special, the way the words are only for them amidst the backstage chaos and the screaming fans outside. "It'll be _us_ now then, starting anew with some old memories."

 

 _Prelude, Call this a prelude to a lifetime of you_ \- Harry smiles up at him through his lashes and Zayn's breath catches in his throat and _fuck_ , he knows they have so many things to talk about to, to fix and to mend but right now he really needs to kiss Harry.

 

He leans down towards Harry and makes a pleased noise when Harry leans up to connect their lips and it feels like it always has. Lips slotting together easily, Harry parting his within seconds to welcome Zayn. Zayn cups his neck and pulls him down because Harry has straightened to his full height and is that much taller than him. Harry probes at his tongue with his own until his is in Zayn's mouth and has Zayn arching against him with a low moan. Harry smiles into the kiss and breaks away.

 

He continues to smile dopily at Zayn until Zayn smiles back, breathing hard and heart beating fast. It feels a little (very) exhilarating and all sorts of new and it's making Zayn feel rather heady.

 

"Oi, lovebirds," Louis screeches from somewhere to their side, but the smile can be heard in voice, "Break it up, we got a show to perform and not the kind you're putting up right now."

 

Harry and Zayn don't look at him, but continue gazing at each other until they give in to the joyful laughter bubbling within them. They tuck into each other's sides; it feels like Zayn's entire body sighs in relief.

 

"Hey, Haz, remember when you used to come to me all the time and ask me if I was okay?" Zayn asks quietly, smiling up at the taller boy, scratching the back of his head. Harry leans in to the touch and nods. "And remember when I told that interviewer once that you're like my rock? You...you still are. You always have been."

 

Zayn blushes a little, admitting to such emotions so freely but it's _Harry_ and really, that makes it completely alright. Harry smiles at him then, not his cheeky grin, not the smirk he used to pull, not the controlled one reserved for trying paps, but -

 

But the one where he smiles with both his dimples out on display, and his eyes sparkle green like there are little supernova bursts in there and there's a flush spreading across his cheeks and _yeah_ , Harry is still so brilliant it's hard to look at him. But this time Zayn keeps his eyes focused because this brightness in Harry, well, Zayn caused it, didn't he? And it's solely for him, it's meant to draw him in and Zayn lets it, lets Harry.

 

There's a countdown going on somewhere behind them to signal that they are to go on stage, but Harry leans down and whispers into his ear, lips pressed flush against heated skin, "You're mine too. I believe you, I lied the other day, I have always believed you. You're my rock too."

 

And it's just then that they get pushed out onto the stage, and Zayn grabs Harry's hand. They are smiling stupidly at each other as they run onto the stage, cameras flashing in front of them in droves and screams nearly deafening them, but it's like all Zayn's senses have tunneled into Harry's existence and that's all he knows.

 

xx

 

Zayn does think that the show was better than the past few have been to be honest but maybe that's just because he spent the entire time looking at Harry and giggling with him. It's not that different than usual (usual being 2012 tour) because he just sang a bit to Harry and maybe grabbed his arse a little bit (which did make the crowd go while, Zayn admits with a self-satisfied smirk). He finishes showering, thinking to go to Harry's room, and comes out of the bathroom.

 

"Oh," Zayn says, eyes landing on Harry who is spread over his bed. "I was just about to come to yours."

 

"In a towel?" Harry asks, smirking in a strangely sleepy way. Zayn looks down and blushes which is - quite unnecessary because Harry has seen him _naked_ for God's sake. He moves to grab his sleep clothes laid out at the foot of the bed but Harry says, "Don't. As in, oh, you can? We'll, umm, talk of course. I'm not - I'm not here to take advantage of you or anything. Oh wow, this just got awkward really fast."

 

Zayn bites his lip to suppress the laughter about to burst out, and Harry gives him a sheepish look.

 

"I just meant, we'll be comfortable in less clothing? Even if it's to talk? We'll build a wall of quilts in the middle if you are, um, uncomfortable," Harry says, sitting up and looking at him with wide eyes.

 

Zayn snorts and then muffles his laughter by bringing a fist up to his mouth. Harry chuckled and then pats the bed beside him.

 

"You're cute when you're nervous," Zayn says, walking towards the bed and getting under the covers. He slides the towel off once he's inside, and drops it on the floor. Harry wrinkles his nose at him and quickly sheds all his clothes. Honestly, Zayn should have gotten used to Harry's body by now, and judging by the way Harry has no qualms in getting naked even now, evidently Harry is still very much more comfortable naked than otherwise, but Zayn is still mesmerised by Harry's body. It's miles of pale skin and toned muscles (but nothing like Liam's because Harry's still got soft spots here and there) and Zayn wants to do nothing but run his hands, and maybe his lips and tongue, over every inch.

 

Zayn turns towards Harry immediately when the boy slides under the covers and reaches out. They shuffle forward till they are aligned face to face, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh but not quite explicitly touching. It feels more than a bit thrilling. They grin at each other, giddy on anticipation and ' _finally_ 's and ' _can't believe we're here_ 's.

 

"Hi," Harry whispers, eyes shining.

 

"Hi yourself," Zayn replies, face aching from smiling.

 

"This feels like those nights back when I was nine and Gemma and I would build pillow forts and giggle underneath the sheets, thinking we're being cool and secretive," Harry says, and then after a pregnant pause, he stutters out, "This is...this is okay, right Zayn? Like us?"

 

"Yeah," Zayn says, "Yeah, of course. We have always been okay. You know, Niall was telling me today that this is what we've been heading towards all this time and maybe it's because we're - "

 

"We're meant to be?" Harry asks, a smile etched within his voice. He cards his long fingers through Zayn's and Zayn pulls their clasped hands close till it's resting on his stomach. "Feels like it, yeah."

 

"Harry, you uh," Zayn says, "You said something right before we went on the stage, that you believe me? I didn't - I don't get it."

 

Harry heaves in a breath and lets it out in a gush, and says, "Remember that day I said that just because you say you're over Perrie doesn't mean it's true? Or how I can't take your word for it that you like me? It's just that, I believed you right then, I lied because I needed to be the one pushing people away for once. You've - you've never lied to me. Avoided me to not say the truth, yes. Omitted the truth, also yes. But never outright told me something you didn't believe in yourself, never actually told me a lie and that's why I knew it the moment you said it, that you really do like me."

 

"I - " Zayn starts but at Harry cuts him off.

 

"No, wait, let me finish. With you, _telling_ is the more important thing because you actually barely ever talk. And god, I was fucked the moment you actually admitted to everything because I believed you straight away. And it's," Harry says, choking on what seem like sobs, and Zayn pulls him in. They are pressed flush against each other, and Harry sniffles against his jaw, lips dragging along Zayn's skin as he continues, "It was so hard trying to believe I was right in doing this, when I already knew I actually wasn't. That it was unfair to both of us."

 

"Hey, babe, no. Harry, listen," Zayn says, squeezing his arms around Harry, "It's fine. None of that matters now because we're here, yeah? Like - fuck - I am not saying we jump right into a relationship or label ourselves or anything, but I like you. I more than like you. I can in fact tell you I love you right now and completely mean it too but - but I don't want to yet. There have been so many  things in between us, so many things still in between us, like what to do about Perrie and whether to the Management about us. And - and so many things we need to rediscover and figure out and we'll do _that_. We have time on our hands and let's focus on all that we can do now, babe. Jesus, it's like we get - "

 

Zayn shrugs, unsure how to phrase it.

 

"It's like we finally get to be together in the way that we want to?" Harry asks. "It's like _finally_ and _thank god_ , yeah? That we get to be with the person we want to all year round and not having to endure long-distance is a perk too."

 

"Yes!" Zayn says, beaming at Harry. "All that. And that's why it doesn't make sense for you to beat yourself up over having been unfair to us for the past week or two. We're not going to remember that a year down the road."

 

And well, that's a bit far-fetched of Zayn to think so far ahead, to think they'll still be together then, but he hasn't unknowingly wanted Harry for so long to not even last a year. He thinks they will probably last all of their lifetime but that's a little too heavy even for _them_ so he settles for a year.

 

Harry seems to love the fact that Zayn mentioned the time period too because his smile flashes lightning quick before he leans up to kiss Zayn. It's languid, this kiss. It's soft and sweet and it soothes any remaining nerves Zayn has about doing _this_ with Harry - something that still doesn't have a name but the pair knows it's indefinite, it's _infinite_.

 

Zayn slants into the kiss, angling their faces till it's deepened. Their lips don't part when Harry scrambles on top of Zayn, settling with knees pressing down on his sides. Zayn can feel Harry's cock filling up, laying heavy on his abdomen, while his own hard-on curves up. He guesses that Harry possibly feels it because the curly-haired haired boy pushes back against it, moaning when Zayn's dick drags along the crack of Harry's arse.

 

Zayn reaches a hand down and circles Harry's hole, and is surprised to find it give way easily when he slides a finger in.

 

"You're loose," Zayn says, lips rubbing against Harry's.

 

"Mhmm, fingered myself before coming here," Harry replies, and gasps when Zayn crooks the finger, dragging it down the inside walls. "Didn't want to waste time."

 

A breathless chuckle is torn out of Zayn's throat, and he teasingly whispers, "So much for not taking advantage."

 

"You like it," Harry quips and reaches back a hand to grab hold of Zayn's leaking cock. He pumps it a few times, and straightens. Zayn's hands come to rest at Harry's hips as Harry aligns Zayn's dick at his entrance with a look of concentration. He grips the hips lightly, thumbing at the _Might as well_ tattoo, when Harry rises up slightly and then slowly sinks down.

 

Zayn groans, relishing the feel of Harry clenching hot around him. Harry's head is thrown back, the long pale line of his throat exposed like it needs be bitten and marked, and he whimpers as he fully seats himself, allowing Zayn to be balls deep in him. Harry fingers dig in painfully on Zayn's chest, with short nails leaving crescent-shaped near-cuts. Harry squirms a bit and Zayn's hips jerk in a helpless reflex, and it makes them both gasp. Zayn runs hand down from Harry's shoulder to his neglected cock as Harry continues to adjust.

 

It's not like that day, it's not rough and it's not bruising. Tonight, it's infused with so much love, and belonging that even through the burning passion, it doesn't feel like a result of just lust. Because Harry is starting to move in small bounces and as much as Zayn is enjoying himself, it's also about just wanting to be as intimate with Harry as possible, as close to him as physically possible.

 

Skin drags along skin, gasps and breathless sounds fill the room as Harry finds a steady rhythm. It's slow and languorous till it's actually awakening a deep ache within their bones, leaving them trembling. And when they climax, with Harry fingernails raking down Zayn's torso in a way Zayn is sure he'll feel in the shower tomorrow and Zayn cupping Harry's arse tight enough to leave finger-shaped bruises, it's still explosive, and it leaves them panting.

 

Harry promptly collapses on his chest and breathes heavily, on his way to slumber. Zayn carefully pulls out of Harry, wincing along with Harry when he realises they didn't use a condom.

 

"Fuck, Harry, I'm sorry," Zayn apologizes, trying to get up to clean them up. Harry protests sleepily. "I didn't think to use a condom."

 

"It's alright. Trust you," Harry mumbles, "Stop moving."

 

“Need to clean us up, babe,” Zayn replies, tone amused and lips quirking up in a half-smile.

 

“Use the towel you dropped on the floor. I’m not moving,” Harry says, and then pauses before sleeping humming _The Man Who Can’t Be Moved_. Zayn has never seen anything more precious than Harry Styles clinging to him like a koala bear and humming mindlessly under his breath with his eyes closed.

 

He finishes cleaning them up with the damp towel as much as possible without jostling Harry too much, and settles back down with Harry a heavy weight on top of him. Harry nuzzles his cheek and kisses the corner of his lips like he aimed and missed the actual target, but before Zayn can tilt his face down to capture Harry’s lips in a goodnight kiss, he can tell Harry has fallen asleep because his breathing goes even.

  
And with Harry wrapped around him, Harry’s breath ghosting on his face, Zayn thinks, there isn’t actually a better place to be on right now, in this planet.

**Author's Note:**

> abhvhabhv you guys reached the end! I hope it wasn't terrible :/ and that you liked it :)
> 
> yay okay, bye muah
> 
> [tumblr](zouislights.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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